no notes in class
by annicaspoon
Summary: These feelings of guilt and loneliness are messing up her window sill.


**I'm craving for these dumb kids to reunite and be happy again real bad, man.**

* * *

The growing pile of paper by her window is beckoning her to clean them up; toss them out.

Yet, due to either an aversion to going near the little slips and what they hold, or an awful, interfering sense of sentiment, April hasn't gotten around removing them from the window sill. Apart from the first one that was pushed between the closed pieces of glass, she hasn't even touched them. She just lets them sit there, the pile growing by one or two more with every week that passes.

She had known it was Raphael as soon as her eyes laid on the handwriting.

Out of all his brothers, Raph was the only one who seemed to understand that it was possible to print in letters that weren't all capitals. It was a slight relief when it came to reading the mass of random and often redundant notes on the lair's fridge - the amount of 'yelled' handwriting between Mikey, Leo and Donnie was enough to give her a headache.

The note had been scrawled onto a scrap of envelope and squeezed between the tiny gap between her windows the night after… The night after.

Really, she should've expected it would be one of them, but her curiosity had piqued her attention before her resolve had reminded her of the current situation with her mutant friends, and her hand had moved immediately to pick up the foreign scrap.

_i know you don't want to hear from us again but we are really really sorry_

Short, basic, straight to the point. If the lack of permanent caps-lock hadn't already tipped her off, the note was too…well, _Raph_ to be from anyone else.

Pure anger and hurt directed her hand to toss the scrap right back onto the window sill, and she turned immediately away from it, seething. _She had told them_ that she didn't want anything to do with them anymore. She had said, to the quote, that she never wanted to see them again.

But of course, ninjas learn how to try and get around almost any obstacle.

Part of her had been tempted to throw the paper slip out immediately and leave a note on the sill - a clear message to Raph to piss the hell off and not try to sneakily stop by again - but no. No, that would be acknowledging him in the first place, and she wasn't going to give any of them that.

So she ignored him. The paper slipped between her windows remained untouched, and grew to the tiny pile it is now. It feels like they're coming less often now; maybe her plan is actually working.

But still, it's making for an _awful_ mess. Her window sill is looking at her with a sad, smothered expression, begging her to clean it up.

Three weeks of ignoring the mess has probably been enough.

Her fingers hover over the scraps. To her surprise, the pile isn't nearly as big as she had been assuming it to be this whole time - her expectations of fifty or so notes is dropped as she gets close enough to discover that there isn't even ten of them. Kicking her wastebasket over to sit at her feet, April grabs the first note and pulls at it between her hands.

…if she doesn't read them now, she'll probably end up going through her bin later to try and find them.

To hell with it.

She opens up the folded scrap, and reads the print on the inside of it. Once again, it's Raph's writing. Of course he would be the one to be stupid enough to go against what she told him and his brothers.

_karai's been hanging around old chinatown. be careful_

April lifts an eyebrow before tossing the scrap into the trash and reaching for the next one.

_the crazy animal guy was on tv last night. wasn't as funny as last time_

That note goes into the bin faster than the last. Maybe this wasn't a good idea. Maybe it's best to close her eyes and leave the others; pretend that they're blank.

But the next slip is already in her hands.

_try to avoid squirrels for a while_

She's annoyed at how curious she is to the story behind Raph's apparent new wariness of squirrels.

_spike didn't enjoy his leaf today. he said he misses you_

She should stop now. She should stop now and just get rid of these as much as possible. Burning them is probably going to be the easiest option.

_leo's being a control freak, mikey hasn't pulled his nose out of his comics, and donnie never leaves the lab. it's getting boring around here._

It's the last one in the pile, and double sided. Even though April could confidently bet on what is written on the other side, her stomach twists in anxiety, confliction, and possibly that burrito she had for lunch.

_we all miss you._

And with that, her stomach drops.

A part of her wishes she could allow herself to feel sympathy, but she can't get past the anger and hurt that's been whipping around her for the past three weeks. She can't let herself be affected by these notes; she can't let herself feel sorry for them and think about maybe trying to go back - even just to say hi. Her friends made a huge mistake, and she suffered for it; she can't forgive them for that.

If they miss her, then they deserve it, she tells herself as she throws the final slip into her bin and shuts her curtains.

(Yet, the curtains don't prevent the teeny, childlike instinct that runs out from her chest, through the window, and out onto the New York rooftops to squeak out "I miss you too," towards the sky.)


End file.
